Page 62 of Peak’s Code

“That’s exactly why it isn’t happening,” Peak said.

“I can get inside his head,” she insisted

“He can get inside yours,” Peak said.

“He already has.” The admission hung in the room. Peak’s hand settled against the small of her back. The contact was light, but grounding. Warden’s gaze dropped to Peak’s hand, then traveled toward the single bed and the scattered clothes they hadn’t had time to completely gather. Maeve felt heat creep up her neck.

Warden’s mouth twitched. “This is why neither of you answered your phones?”

Peak’s expression turned flat. “Choose your next words carefully.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Warden said.

“You were about to,” Peak grumbled. Warden grinned, and Maeve holstered her pistol.

“Can we focus on the part where Captain is missing, and Mercer knows who has Wren?”

The humor disappeared from Warden’s face. “Yeah.” He took the burner phone from Peak and entered a code. A photograph appeared on the screen. Mercer sat in a metal chair; his hands bound behind him. His face was bruised, but he was conscious. Someone had placed a tablet on the table in front of him. The screen showed a woman’s employee photograph. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and wore a white laboratory coat—Dr. Elaine Voss.

Maeve studied the name printed beneath the image. “She works for a pharmaceutical company.”

“Worked,” Warden corrected. “The company shut down six years ago after a contamination scandal.”

Peak leaned over the phone. “What’s the company’s name?”

“Bayview Therapeutics,” Warden said. Maeve knew it, not personally, but from an investigation.

Her body went cold. “I’ve seen that name before.”

Peak looked at her. “Where?”

“One of the shell companies connected to the crawler.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took the phone. “Bayview bought data from three medical systems before it closed. Patient records, insurance details, prescription histories.”

Warden frowned. “What does that have to do with trafficking?”

“Identity creation,” Peak said.

Maeve nodded. “They can use real medical records to build fake identities. Birth dates, blood types, prescription histories.”

“For the women they move?” Warden asked.

“For anyone,” she breathed.

Peak’s expression sharpened. “Including contractors who need to disappear.” Warden swore softly.

Maeve zoomed in on Voss’s photograph. “If this woman works for the Director, she might be the one creating new identities for the people inside the organization.”

“Or for the victims,” Peak said. The thought made Maeve feel sick. Wren could be living under another name. She could be moved through hospitals, airports, and secure facilities without triggering a single missing-person alert.

Maeve handed the phone back. “We find Voss, we find the facility.”

“That’s the theory,” Warden said.

“Where was she last seen?” Peak asked.